


Meeting The White Demon

by BunnyJimmyBearBoi



Series: The White Demon Chronicles [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Consentacles, Cuddles, Demonic Geralt, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Hope you like tendrils and raspberries, Light BDSM, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overuse of certain words, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Safeword Use, Safewords, Scent Kink, Smut, Tentacles, Touch-Starved, but the smut continues, feelings overtake the smut, jaskier is a slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyJimmyBearBoi/pseuds/BunnyJimmyBearBoi
Summary: When Geralt went through the extra mutations, no one knew exactly what it would do to him. Additionally, no one knew he had demon blood in him, otherwise they might not have gone through with it. Needless to say, the final trial amplified his demonic nature. His amber eyes became flecked with red. His skin and hair became as white as the snow surrounding Kaer Morhen. But most frightening, he could summon white wispy tendrils. These extra appendages could be made incorporeal or solid, and everything in-between. It was unknown how many Geralt could manifest, as he had passed out at the count of 157, and Geralt had not yet had the need to test that limit again. All of this was great for fighting the monsters of the world, but it had earned him the nickname The Demon. And no one wanted a demon around. Not until the day a flashy bard played horrible songs in a run-down tavern in Posada.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The White Demon Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923655
Comments: 39
Kudos: 370





	Meeting The White Demon

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve only watched the Netflix show, looked up stuff on the Witcher wiki and read a ton of fanfiction. That’s the breadth and depth of my knowledge of the Witcher world at the moment. If you’re looking for canon compliance, you’ll not find much of it here. I’m totally making stuff up. If you don’t like that, please don’t read this. Also, mind the tags. Everything here is consensual, but it might not be your cup of tea. If it is, I hope you enjoy! If not, please go enjoy some other writings as this site if full of marvelous writers and stories.

Geralt did his best to keep all of his movements slow as he ate alone at the farthest back corner of the tavern. He did not want to startle anyone and cause them to lash out at him. People reacted to him in one of two ways. One, too afraid to have him around, thus running him out of town. Two, too afraid to upset him, thus giving him the best of everything. He had taken a chance on this backwater town of Posada that they’d be the latter and, so far, his gamble had paid off.

For the most part.

He had good food, for once, though taste was come and go since he was keeping his nose as closed as possible, not wanting to smell the acrid scent of shit, which was the odor people gave off when they were afraid or disgusted. Though he was pretty sure some of these folks smelled like that all the time anyway. 

The ale was a good brew and hadn’t been spit in, and yes, he could tell. Overall, he was able to enjoy himself. People were leaving him alone, even if everyone was side-eyeing him nervously, probably waiting for him to sprout a second head. Which was not something he could do. 

The only thing he didn’t have was a room for the night, though not for a lack of trying on the inn-keeper’s part. The poor woman had been about to find one of the current guests to throw out, but Geralt had managed to stop her, saying he was planning on leaving town after eating. Which had been a lie, as he had really hoped to have a soft bed to sleep in, it had been so long, but he wasn’t about to piss off any guests who might be of a different opinion about him staying there.

So, he resigned himself to another night out under the stars. At least he’d have some warm food and cold spirits to content him. Now if only the flamboyantly-dressed musician on the opposite side of the tavern could actually play a decent song. One not full of imaginary creatures.

As he returned his focus to his food, he could hear some patrons yelling at the bard and subsequently throwing food at the young man, who yelped and retreated back to his things in the corner. Taking a bite of meat, Geralt was amused to hear the singer’s low grumble as he picked up some bread off the floor.

Then the sounds of the musician’s footsteps made their way toward the witcher, much to his dismay. Looking out the side of his eyes, he tracked the brunette’s movements, an off-kilter swagger to his gait, like the man’s feet weren’t quite doing what he wanted. Puzzled, Geralt stayed still, keeping his head down, one hand tight around his mug.

“You are much too bright to be brooding in such a dark corner,” the young man crooned.

Blinking down at the table, it took a moment for Geralt to think through what had been said. He wore black clothes, like he always did. There was nothing bright about him. Well, except his white hair and pale complexion. But that wasn’t what the man meant, was it? Unable to figure out a response, he chose to remain silent, lifting the mug to his mouth and take a deep gulp. Ignoring people usually made them go away.

Evidently, this bard was not most people as he somehow took the witcher’s lack of response as an invitation and sat down across from him, setting his belongings on the floor. “So…” The man thrummed his lean fingers on the table.

Daring a glance up, Geralt looked into the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. He stopped breathing for a moment as he saw into the man’s soul, something he usually could guard against, but, for some reason, not this time. He drowned in the kindness and bounteous optimism of the young spirit in front of him. There was an unshaking belief and trust that the world was more good than bad. Then it shifted and a deep desire bubbled up, turning the blue swirling mist deep and dark with want, a craving for physical closeness.

Gasping for air, he tore his eyes away and quickly closed them. Taking a deep breath in, Geralt was stunned by the sweet fruity scent spilling into his space from the young man sitting across from him. It was a scent he knew well, but lust had never before been directed towards him. Not even from the few whores he had been able to convince to bed him. No, this smell had always been around him, teasing him, tantalizing him, but never, ever, for him.

“Are you all right?” The melodious voice flowed smoothly from the bard’s mouth. 

It took all his willpower not to summon his tendrils, grab the man and… He cut off that thinking and tried to stop breathing through his nose again. “Fine.” He grunted, finally responding to the question. Keeping his gaze averted, he took another sip.

“I don’t know. You don’t look fine. Ah, well, actually, you do look quite fine. Quite a nice specimen, indeed. As strong as a mountain, with such broad shoulders and...” The other rambled on for a while before suddenly shutting his mouth and giving a small, embarrassed shrug. “I just thought… you looked like you might need a lie-down?”

“Hmm.” Geralt responded as he wondered whether the bard knew who he was or not.

There was a bit of a pause as the young man quite obviously struggled to pull his thoughts together. Finally, he blurted out, “Do you have a room for tonight?”

Raising an eyebrow, the witcher shook his head no. “I’m leaving after I finish eating.” He purposefully took a big bite, trying to reinforce that he wanted to be left alone.

“Oh,” the brunette sighed as he ran a hand through his short brown hair, messing it up, leaving strands sticking out at odd angles. And if the sight of that did things to Geralt’s slow beating heart, well, the witcher was going to keep that to himself.

Trying again, a bright smile graced the bard’s lips. “I have a proposition for you.”

Grunting, Geralt wanted to say fuck off, but the smell of fruit had not wavered a moment and it drew him in. He would say his heart was swelling, but it was a different organ altogether that was growing large. So, he gritted out, “What,” instead.

“Stay the night with me.”

Head snapping up, Geralt watched as the young man winked and cocked his head to the side in a coy, inviting fashion. The long length of his neck was exposed and that creamy skin was calling to the witcher to mark it up. He should say no, but his body had needs that he could deny for only so long. Why should he look a gift horse in the mouth? Or in this case, a free fuck. From someone who actually wanted him. Or did he…

Eyes meeting, the witcher stopped the soul lock before asking, “Do you know who I am?”

Unable to look away, the bard nodded as he breathlessly answered, “Took me a moment. But there’s only one man on the continent with white hair, pale skin, gold eyes flecked with red and is a witcher. You, sir, are Geralt of Rivia.”

“I am no man,” Geralt automatically grunted.

“I beg to differ, but that is not the matter at hand.” Sitting tall in his chair, the young man bowed slightly at the waist. “I am Jaskier, a humble bard looking for adventure and you, my dear witcher, look like you could take me on quite a journey.” Another wink accompanied a wide smirk across his lush lips.

Unsure of how to respond, Geralt drained the last of his drink and grunted, “Your room?”

“Oh! Yes, upstairs.” A red blush spread over Jaskier’s neck and up onto his face. “Are you ready?”

While he knew he should eat everything as he didn’t know when he’d eat so well again, Geralt couldn’t think of feeding his stomach anymore. He stood without a word and grabbed his swords and pack from beside him.

The bard scrambled to his feet, grabbed his own possessions and led the way, glancing back several times to make sure Geralt was following, which he was. Jaskier opened the door at the end of the hallway and let the witcher in before firmly shutting and locking the door.

Easing his possessions to the floor by the door, Geralt took stock of the small room, which was surprisingly clean and filled with a larger bed than he expected. A small table and chair sat against one wall. Another wall held a small water basin and a stack of threadbare towels.

“So…” Jaskier started to say as he set his lute case on the table next to his travel bag. “May I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Geralt wondered what outlandish rumor was about to spill from the bard’s lips. It must have to do with sex, considering how quickly the room was filling with the scent of fruit.

Turning to fully face the witcher, standing only a few feet away, Jaskier took a deep breath before asking, “Is it true that you can come several times in a night?”

Snorting, the witcher took a step towards the other. “No.”

The bard deflated. “Oh.”

“But,” Geralt stopped right as the toe of his boot touched the tip of Jaskier’s soft shoe. “When I come, I release three times the amount as a man.” 

The brunette’s mouth opened and closed several times before he muttered, “You are a man.”

“Not a man.”

“You’ve got a cock, though.”

“Hmm, there are many creatures with a cock that are not a man.”

“I think we should agree to disagree.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “Though I am right.”

“I thought you wanted to fuck,” Geralt growled.

A whimper escaped the bard’s lips. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do. Want to get fucked. Um, by you, if you are agreeable.”

The witcher nodded. “This is your room. Your rules.” Raspberries, that was the exact scent of the other’s arousal. The witcher inhaled deeply, rather liking the smell.

Hand flying to his heart, Jaskier gasped. “I have many, many ideas, but I’ll keep it simple for tonight. We can always try other situations later.”

Geralt’s brain froze at the thought of more in the future. He couldn’t dare to think that there would be more than tonight. Shaking his thoughts clear, he caught up with what the bard was saying.

“…While that would be fun, I don’t have any silk scarves with me. So,” the brunette clapped his hands. “I’d love for your, um, what do you call your summoned appendages? Tentacles?”

Grimacing, the witcher grumbled, “Tendrils.” He didn’t care for the word tentacles as everyone always used it in a negative way.

“Right, tendrils. I want your tendrils to hold me up, strip my clothes and prepare me for your cock. Then hold me down on the bed while you have your way with me, restraining me and not letting me come until after you have filled me up. I want to be overflowing with your release. Is that all right with you?”

For once, Geralt didn’t respond because his brain had once again stopped functioning. He couldn’t believe that someone would want to bed him, let alone want him to use his demonic powers for sex. It was just so inconceivable.

“Of course,” Jaskier quickly added, “If you want something, please let me know. I do want to be a good host, after all.”

“I, uh,” the witcher started before clearing his throat. “Can I touch you with my hands, too? Or just… just the…”

Face softening, the bard stepped up close to Geralt. “Please, touch me as much as you like. May I touch and kiss you before we begin?”

Not trusting his voice, Geralt nodded.

Being almost the same height, there was no leaning down or up. Jaskier gently cupped the witcher’s face and tilted his head to the side as he pressed his lips against the other’s. Geralt naturally felt inclined to tilt his head to the opposite side and pressed into the kiss. Their bodies collided as they both moaned at the feeling of the other.

It felt like sparks of light against his skin. Geralt felt so overcome. Jaskier was so giving of himself that bits of his blessed soul poured into the kiss and filled the witcher’s mouth. He did his best to push the essence back into the other. He would not consume what the other had not knowingly given. Once he felt it all returned to its proper place, he sadly broke the kiss. He’d have to be more careful as the night progressed.

Surprised at the break, worry creased Jaskier’s forehead. “Was that okay?”

“Yes,” the witcher breathed. “Just. A lot.”

A shy, coy smile lifted the bard’s face and he clapped his hands. “Good. I had forgotten to check my breath and worried it might have smelled of onions.”

Allowing a chuckle to escape, the witcher mumbled, “If anyone should smell of onions, it’d be me.”

“Hmm, maybe a little, but we can take a bath later. Why get clean now if we’re only going to get oh so dirty.” With a wink, Jaskier stepped back and flung his arms out. “I’m ready for you to take me!”

Snorting, Geralt shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes.” The bard stomped his foot. “If I need you to stop completely, I’ll simply say red. If I need you to slow down, I’ll say orange. If everything is good, I’ll say yellow. You can check in on me any time you need and I’ll tell you my color.”

“Red, orange, yellow.” The witcher raised an eyebrow. It sounded similar to the color coding Eskel had created for cataloguing monsters. “Like a threat level?”

“Um, yes. That’s about the idea. It’s a system I learned back in Oxenfurt from my fellows. Works very well. Now, I am really ready for you to take me!” His arms were still outstretched, not having wavered once during their discussion.

Must be practice from holding the lute for so long, Geralt mused. “As you wish, bard.” It took very little focus for him to manifest four large tendrils. Wispy and partially incorporeal, they were almost pure white except for thin streaks of pale blue running through, reminiscent of veins in living creatures. The tendrils protruded from his lower back, lifting up the bottom of his gambeson and shirt, and waved idly in the air for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. While this was nothing compared to fighting a pack of ghouls, he found his aroused state made concentrating a little challenging.

Just as Jaskier was about to speak, the witcher sent the four tendrils shooting towards the bard, one wound around each limb, becoming completely solid before lifting the young man off the floor. A gasp turned into a moan as the tendrils twined tightly around his arms and legs, getting a firm grip.

“How does that feel?” Geralt asked as he summoned another large tendril and several small ones.

“Yellow, oh so yellow!” The bard’s face was a deep crimson and his eyes were closed as his head lolled to the side. The room now smelled of nothing but sweet raspberries.

This was a very interesting reaction to the witcher, but then nothing about this situation was normal. He commanded the big tendril to wrap around Jaskier’s waist for further support. Then focused the small tendrils to start unlacing and removing the many layers of the bard’s ridiculously complex clothing, the large tendrils shifted as needed. He took care of the articles and neatly folded the clothes on the chair, with the shoes on the floor under the table, and even placed the salvaged bread on the tabletop.

“What about you?” Jaskier asked as he gazed through hooded eyes at the fully clothed witcher.

“Hmm.” Geralt rather enjoyed looking at the naked bard while he was still clothed, but he did want to please the other so he summoned more tendrils, using them to removed his own clothes, letting them drop haphazardly to the floor.

He almost smiled when Jaskier gasped at the sight of his thick cock, even though it was only at half-mast. It unfortunately could take a while to fully fill due to his slow heartbeat. One more thing the whores charged him extra for. Pushing that thought aside, Geralt asked, “Where’s your oil?”

“In my bag.” The bard leaned his head towards the table.

Using several small tendrils, the witcher opened the bag, found the oil and brought it to them. While he thought about using his hands to open the young man, he very much wanted to run his hands across the toned flesh and through the thick bed of hair on the other’s chest. As Geralt stepped up close and started to do just that, slowly running his fingers up Jaskier’s chest, several small tendrils slicked themselves up and started to gently prod at the bard’s hole.

“Yes, yes,” Jaskier moaned as one slipped up inside him. He started to pant as a second one joined the first. “Don’t forget,” he gulped, “Don’t let me come.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nodded and sent several tendrils to wrap around the base of the bard’s cock, keeping a firm, but not painful grip.

“Ohhh,” Jaskier moaned as he further relaxed into the hold that Geralt’s tendrils had on him. “More, please.”

Thumbing both of the bard’s nipples at the same time, the witcher sent two more small tendrils to twine together and thrust up between the other two that were working on stretching the young man’s hole wide. 

Jaskier tried to squirm, but could not move. “Oh fuck!” he whined.

Geralt stilled his hands and the thrusting tendrils. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yell-ohhhhh! Please!” Jaskier whimpered. “Don’t stop!”

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the witcher resumed. He leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping it. Meanwhile, he merged the twined tendrils together and fed it more energy to enlarge it, thickening it up inside the bard’s ass.

“Fuck, yes! Oh, that feels so good!” Jaskier shouted loudly into the quiet room.

Chuckling, Geralt chided him, “Better be quiet or we’ll get thrown out.

The bard’s eyes popped open wide as he smirked. “Make me.”

“Brat.” Geralt summoned another tendril, giving it quite a distinct look with a bulbous head. He moved it quickly to Jaskier’s mouth, hoping the other wouldn’t have time to get a good look, but of course he did. Right before it popped into the bard’s mouth, the man moaned as his eyes rolled up into his head.

The witcher grunted as the brunette sucked greedily on the cock-shaped tendril. He could feel everything that each tendril felt. It was almost overwhelming, especially when he felt a constant drip of fluid over the ones holding the bard’s cock restrained. Geralt was pretty sure he wasn’t going to last long once he got inside the other.

Speaking of which, the witcher looked down at himself and saw his own thick cock fully engorged and dripping on the floor. He grinned. “Ready?”

Jaskier nodded frantically as he continued to slurp down the tendril, running his tongue under the head repeatedly.

Slowly, the witcher directed the tendrils to move the bard to the bed, laying him out, spread wide, before pressing him firmly down onto the blanket, just as requested. A broken moan vibrated through the tendril in the other’s mouth. Crawling up the bed from the foot, Geralt knelt between the other’s legs. The tendrils lifted up Jaskier’s legs and bent them to his own chest, holding them there, and completely exposing his rounded ass and loose hole. The thickened tendril was still pumping in and out while the two smaller ones pulled at the sides.

“I’m going to pull these out now,” Geralt husked. As he withdrew, he could feel a deep groan rumble through the bard’s chest. Quickly, he used the tendrils to slick up his cock, still not wanting to get his hands dirty. He wanted to be able to touch as much as he could so, in the future, he could remember what it was like to be close to someone who wanted him.

“Ready?” the witcher grasped the bard’s hips as he positioned himself, pressing softly against the other’s hole.

The tendril slid out from Jaskier’s mouth, allowing him to respond. “Oh yes, Geralt, please, please fuck me and fill me up. I’m so ready, beyond ready. Please. Now!” Before he could ramble on anymore, the tendril popped back into his mouth. The bard relaxed as he went back to sucking on the cock tendril as if it were Geralt’s real one.

And wasn’t that a thought. But one the witcher quickly shoved aside, as he started to press into Jaskier. Both of them moaned as the thick crown of his cock popped in. What he felt like had been enough preparation clearly had not been. The bard was tight around him, like a vice. He stopped moving, giving the other time to adjust.

It took a few moments. The bard had stopped sucking the tendril and was instead panting open-mouthed, the tendril’s head resting on the young man’s tongue. But slowly the grip loosened and Geralt was able to slide a little more in. Inch by inch, slow and steady, until he finally bottomed out and held still. 

He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s body, holding him close. The sensations were almost too much. He didn’t deserve this. Burying his head in the crook of the bard’s neck, Geralt felt tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

Jaskier pushed the tendril from his mouth with his tongue and hoarsely asked, “Are you okay, Geralt?”

It took a moment, but the witcher answered softly, “Orange.” The fruit scent on the other’s skin disappeared, replaced with the bitter tang of root vegetables, the smell of worry.

“Release me,” the bard commanded.

Geralt quickly complied, the tendrils falling away from the Jaskier’s limbs, and immediately felt the other’s arms wrap around him, one ran up and down his back soothingly. The bard made soft crooning noises in his ear. Slowly, the witcher was able to relax into the embrace, careful to keep his weight off the other.

Lifting his head and gazing with watery eyes, Geralt mumbled, “Sorry.”

Jaskier smiled softly. “No, nothing to be sorry about. Intimacy can be quite devastating. And something tells me that no one has ever asked you to do this before.”

“No.” Geralt looked away.

“Humf, people are fools. You are beautiful and giving and quite the gentleman.”

“Not a man,” Geralt grumbled automatically, his ears felt hot from all the compliments he didn’t deserve.

A soft giggle escaped the bard’s lips. “At any rate, I feel you deserve to be worshiped!”

A shudder thundered through Geralt’s body. The demon blood sang. “Careful bard.”

Jaskier cocked his head to the side. “What was that?”

The witcher allowed his hunger to shine through his eyes. He’d never allowed a human before to see this, but it had cowed many a monster. And he felt Jaskier deserved to know what he was getting into. “Worshipping a demon is not a good idea.”

The bard’s jaw dropped. “Your eyes. The amber has turned white and the red sparkles are now blue.”

Confusion crossed Geralt’s face. “What? They changed color?” He hadn’t known that, but the color made sense considering the color of his tendrils. “My eyes do not have sparkles,” he grunted.

“Oh yes they do, love. So pretty.” Jaskier sighed happily. “As much as I’d love to discuss more about worshiping you, which I truly do intend to do more of. Right now, I need you to move and fuck me good with your cock and fill me up. If you’re ready, of course.”

The sudden shift in discussion and blooming aroma of raspberries threw the witcher off course, but he quickly grasped onto what he could understand at the moment. He was buried deep inside the bard and he did indeed want nothing more than spill himself inside.

Without warning, Geralt pulled out halfway and thrust back in hard, garnering a yelp from Jaskier. The bard opened his mouth to speak, but the cock-shaped tendril slid in, blocking the young man from talking. The witcher pulled back and thrust into the bard’s tight ass as he commanded the tendril to pull out of the other’s mouth. He timed it so that his cocks alternated thrusting in and out, making the brunette feel like he was getting fucked in both his ass and mouth. 

Jaskier’s body bowed off the bed. Geralt realized he had forgotten to pin the bard back down, so he quickly commanded the tendrils to rewrap securely around the brunette’s limbs and torso. Smaller tendrils flitted across the peaked nipples and caressed the soft furry chest. Tears ran down the young man’s face from closed eyes as a high-pitched whine sounded long from his throat.

The witcher grinned, knowing he was pleasuring the bard. While the request had been to come first, he thought it was too selfish. As he felt himself get close to the precipice, he changed the tendrils constricting Jaskier’s cock. Merging them and pouring energy in, they transformed into a single open maw. Geralt poured the remaining oil into the mouth and it enveloped the brunette’s shaft, sucking it in and out.

A deep shudder ran through the bard’s body as a muted scream issued forth around the tendril in his mouth. As the intense orgasm swept through Jaskier and he spurted into the tendril’s tight mouth, he clamped down hard on Geralt’s cock, also triggering the witcher’s release.

Pulse after pulse, Geralt released deep inside. Despite the tight seal of Jaskier’s ass, the copious amounts of seed could not be contained and started escaping around the witcher’s cock, dripping down their skin and onto the bed below them.

As Jaskier came down from his high, the tendril in his mouth pulled out, allowing the man to breathe easier and speak. His voice was raw. “Oh Geralt! Yes, it feels so good. I’m so full, so full of you. I can’t wait to taste you next time.”

The witcher’s breathing hitched and his mind scrambled. He wanted a next time. Wanted so many next times. He had to make sure he was worth being wanted. He needed to serve this precious angel’s every desire. After the high of sex, words could be reconsidered. He could still be thrown out. So, he did something he’d never tried before. Focusing his powers, he moved the connection of the cock tendril from his lower back to his penis. “Jaskier,” he panted. “Here.” 

That was all Geralt could manage before his release changed from going inside the bard’s ass to spurting over the man’s mouth.

“Ack!” Jaskier startled, but then quickly latched onto the tip of the tendril and started swallowing. He managed to drink down most of it, but some strands dribbled down his chin and onto his chest.

Afraid for a moment that he shouldn’t have done that, the witcher was quickly reassured by the continued moaning and writhing of the bard, along with the sweet, wonderful smell of raspberries.

After only a few more moments, Geralt’s cock stopped. He rested his head against Jaskier’s chest, unbothered by the splatters of his own come sticking to the hair there and now his face. Slowly he dismissed the tendrils. First, the cock one as that connection took a lot of energy to maintain. Then the ones holding the bard down.

“Um,” Jaskier cleared his throat. “That was amazing! And you taste quite good, which I’ll expound on in a moment. But before you go dismissing that mouthy one, I was just curious, does it still have my come in it?”

Blinking, it took Geralt a moment to process what had been said. He sensed into the tendril and found that it did indeed still contained the other’s release. “Yes. Why?”

“Well, seeing as how you so courteously fed me yours. I was wondering if you wanted to taste mine?” Jaskier quickly waved his arms. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to! It’d just be… well, quite an arousing end to this session.” The smirk found its way back onto the bard’s face. A look that Geralt was becoming a bit too fond of.

Geralt allowed the smile on his face as he slowly sat up. His cock was still hard and deep inside Jaskier. It would take several moments for it to soften enough to easily pull out. For now, he tilted his head back as the tendril mouth eased off the other’s shaft and rose up to his lips. He kissed the maw, shuddering a bit at the sensation of touching his demonic side so intimately. But he forged on and licked his tongue in and lapped up Jaskier’s release. The salty bitter taste was unlike anything he’d ever tasted. Definitely not the worst liquid he’d ever put in his mouth, but it was at odds with the sweet arousal smell that was overwhelming his nose.

Once cleaned of all release, Geralt dismissed the tendril and gazed down at the bard. The young man’s limbs were loose and body relaxed, despite still being filled with the witcher’s thick member. Bright blue eyes shone up at him, happiness and contentment radiating out from Jaskier’s soul.

“Thank you,” the brunette murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Geralt responded, not knowing what else to say, except that he should really be the one saying thank you. Unsure of what was next, he looked around the room and spied the wash basin. Oh wait, yes, clean up. He still had a few small tendrils summoned so he used those to wet a towel and start cleaning up the bard’s face and chest.

Jaskier giggled at the cold wet cloth dragging across his nipples. “Ack! No!”

The bard’s wiggling loosened the grip he had on Geralt’s softening cock, which finally slipped out. Along with it, a torrent of come gushed out and soaked the middle of the bed.

“Uh-oh” Jaskier continued to giggle as they both stared at the ruined bedding. “Something tells me we won’t be welcomed back here. Ah well.”

Geralt looked away for a moment. Not being welcomed somewhere might be fine for the bard, but it had been one of the few towns in the area that had tolerated him. He bit back a sigh as he cleaned up Jaskier as best as he could and then wiped himself off. He tossed the cloth on the floor by the basin.

Reaching up, Jaskier gripped the witcher’s chin. “Don’t worry, my lovely white demon. We’ll be fine.”

Eyes widening, Geralt gaped. “We?”

“Of course, silly! You didn’t think I was going to let you go after all that. We have so many more positions to try and so many new ways to test your powers. And we really need to discuss this worship concept because I am totally down for that. Or up for that. Depends on whether I need to kneel or you’re going to suspend me with your tendrils.” Jaskier giggled softly. “I like both ideas, my wonderful white demon.”

“Why do you call me that?” the witcher demanded, mind unable to comprehend the words of devotion from the other.

“Ah, well, I’d call you something like my knight in shining armor, but you neither have shining armor nor will accept me calling you a man.”

“Because I’m not.”

“Right, right. So, I am going to fully embrace your… demoncy? Demonicness? Er, demon side, and show you how worthy you are of love. Specifically, my love because I want you all the time and I will not leave you alone. You’re stuck with me. Oh, and I need to see you fight so I can write better songs. There’s that too.” Jaskier grinned cheekily up at the witcher.

Not alone. Geralt blinked slowly as he nodded. “Okay.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jaskier echoed, “Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Geralt smiled as he pulled his bard into his arms and cuddled them both to sleep. A bath would have to wait until morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a lot longer than I expected. They kept wanting to have moments! Feeling moments, not sexy moments. But that’s okay because the character of demonic witcher Geralt turned out pretty interesting. All his neat abilities came out while I wrote and I’d love to write more about him and the insatiably slutty Jaskier. They do, for example, still need to take a bath. They’re filthy! ^_~
> 
> Also, sorry for channeling a bit of The Good Place. I love Janet, but I swear I didn’t do the “not a man” bit on purpose. Well, not at first. The first instance came out naturally and then when I re-read that part, I totally got the Janet vibe. After that, yeah, then it was on purpose. Sorry, not sorry. ^_^
> 
> {edit} I have started working on writing more so please subscribe to the series if you want to be updated when I post more. I plan to continue this journey as episodic separate pieces.


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